Bone Dust
by BellatrixLestrangey
Summary: Goretober Day 20: Torture. Ozai 'prepares' Azula for what may happen if she gets captured by the enemy.


She doesn't comprehend how cruel it is. Azula thinks that it is normal. He says that he is doing it for her own good. That if she ever gets captured by the Water Tribe, she will know what to expect.

That she will be used to it and by extension, unaffected by it.

He has her pinned down, a guard holds her by the wrists as her father drapes a cloth over her mouth and nose. She kicks her legs and squirms beneath the guard, trying to buck him off. But he is twice her height and thrice her weight.

"Father, please." She whispers.

His demeanor is steely and unwavering as he approaches. She hears the sloshing of water as he comes closer. Her struggle intensifies.

"Stop crying, Azula. The goal is to not react." Ozai says tenderly, as though he were going to read her a bedtime story and not cause her, her first near death experience.

He carefully bends over and pours the water over the cloth. Slowly and steadily and then he presses the cloth more firmly against her nose and lips.

Azula kicks and thrashes with little thought, only her body's instinctive reflexes to keep her alive.

She begins to choke.

She only faintly hears her father reminding her not to cry. That crying is a weakness that a spiller can't afford; especially during a merciless interrogation.

But this is not an interrogation, this is her father standing over her and keeping air from reaching her lungs.

When her world starts to fade into a black vertigo and the fight leaves her body, Ozai removes the cloth.

She sucks in a deep gasping breath. Her lungs burn furiously. She wants to bring her hand to her throat but the guard still has her pinned.

She doesn't get to savor her rediscovered ability to breath because her father brings the cloth back down and wets it again.

The session repeats.

Over and over, every other day, until Azula grows accustomed to the awful burning in her lungs. Until she no longer fears her breathing being cut off.

Until her eyes grow vacant.

Her father is satisfied he smiles and tells her that he is proud of her. That she is going to be efficient and unstoppable.

She tries to feel proud of herself too. But her emotions are muted under layers of trauma.

Azula no longer fears an early death.

She expects it.

But Ozai's lesson has not prepared her for what they actually do in war. Not for what they do in the aftermath, when tempers are still roused and blood is still called for.

He hasn't prepared her for the pure rage and personal hatred they have for her in the Earth Kingdom.

They don't want information so she can't bring an end to her torment by giving them the answers they seek.

They don't want anything from her except to hear her scream and cry and beg to be spared.

They had come for her one night during while Zuko was in the middle of bargaining with them to show mercy on her for her war crimes. It is no wonder they were being so cooperative. They had been planning to go behind his back this whole time.

They throw her to the ground and leave her with no time to regain her bearings. She realizes that she is in the center of town in the middle of a large ring of people ranging from commoners to nobles and politicians.

The first of them steps forward and lugs a boulder into her side, a sturdy blow that knocks the wind out of her again and has her slamming against the pavement. They begin kicking at and stomping on her and suddenly her body feels so small and fragile. _She _feels small and fragile. This is nothing at all like her father had prepared her for.

The crowd parts and she thinks that they are done with her. At least until she spots a shadow hovering above her. The man lets an even larger boulder fall upon her hand. Her shrill cry covers the sound of cracked bone. She is certain that her hand is unsalvageably crushed. She rolls onto her side and clutches that wrist with her remaining hand.

More rocks come at her, smaller but painful just as well.

She feels sick.

She wonders if she should just pull and get it over with so she'd at least have a chance to fight back. But she can't bring herself to do it. She knows that the hand is lost but she doesn't want to see the damage. She certainly doesn't want to take the liberty of amputating it herself.

In the back of her mind she thinks that they will eventually sever it for her.

The rocks beat against her body until it is bloody all over. Her tears don't seem to draw any sympathy.

She is going to die and she is going to die slowly.

Azula feels a new sensation; the bite of a blade as a woman carves something into her side. She doesn't want to know what it reads. She squeezes her eyes shut and prays that it will be over soon.

An entirely new person kicks her back onto her back so that they can drop another huge bolder upon her. She hopes that they will aim for her head or something that will kill her and end it. It falls upon her other hand instead. This time her scream is as loud as the pain is excruciating. Her whole body shudders in agony and she wishes that they were only waterboarding her as her father had some years prior.

A new face emerges from the crowd, it is familiar in a way; perhaps one of the Dai Li. "You have such a pretty face for such an ugly girl." He snarls.

Azula cringes. She is breathing erratically as he brings a razor to her face, from the corner of her right eye he drags it down her cheek and to her chin. And then he jabs it into her nose. She feels a rush of blood seeping into her mouth and down her chin. There is so much of it that her vision is going fuzzy.

But she has been cursed and blessed with the ability to withstand and sustain a lot of damage. She feels the boulder pinning her right hand down shift. It rolls off of her hand and for one foolish moment she believes that they have had their sadistic fill.

Instead the Dai Li man and a woman grab her body and tug. Her eyes go wide as she realizes what is about to happen. She can feel the skin on her wrist begin to split.

That is her limit.

Azula wakes in a hospital feeling physically and emotionally absent. She is almost certain that she has been beaten beyond recognition. She is scared to look at her left arm but she forces herself to do so anyhow. At the end of it is a bandaged stump.

But somehow it doesn't feel like it belongs to her. There is this merciful emotional disconnect.

Her other hand is also bandaged, at least it is still attached, even if it isn't functional. Her ribs are also wrapped in bandages, she only needs to shift positions to know that they are bruised and broken.

She is bruised and broken in body, mind, and spirit.

"You're awake." Zuko notes.

"I shouldn't be." She whispers. "I shouldn't alive."

Zuko squeezes her remaining hand.

She almosts asks him why he let them do this to her but she knows that this is exactly what he had been fighting against. His only mistake was thinking that they'd be honorable during the negotiation process.

Slowly and with intense care, Zuko lifts her into his arms and cradles her against him. "Katara has been in and out, she says that your face is going to heal. There will only be a little scarring."

Azula wishes that she could feel reassured, but she doesn't. Not at all.

"It isn't that bad anymore." Zuko promises. "Not like it was four days ago. It isn't as swollen."

That implies that the swelling is still there. She doesn't want to see her face and the state it is in. If it looks anything like her arms, legs, and the exposed parts of her belly, then it is a grizzly thing to behold.

"TyLee has been worried, she's going to be happy that you're awake."

Azula should be happy that she is awake. Yet she can't bring herself to be. What kind of life is she going to lead? She can hardly even breath right with the damage they had inflicted on her nose, muchless accomplish anything worthwhile.

**.oOo.**

TyLee traces the raised line of Azula's scar, from the corner of her eye to chin. She gives the princess a soft kiss. It is comforting to have her around, especially when the nightmares resurface. On those nights when she is brought right back into the mob only to wake up screaming.

They grow less intense and less frequent as the years pass but when they do come they are still distressing.

She hugs TyLee close as they stare at the sunrise from the palace balcony. The wind tosses her hair, it is pleasantly warm on her face. After a healthy amount of quietly staring, TyLee turns around and takes Azula's only hand and the stump. Azula closes her remaining fingers around TyLee's hand.

She supposes that she is more or less used to the sight of it by now.

TyLee follows her gaze. One of her hands is on Azula's cheek again. "You're perfect." TyLee likes to remind her of this every now and again. It has helped a lot over the years, especially during bouts of insecurity. The moments where she dwells on who she used to be and what she used to look like.

It isn't so bad anymore, though. She has found ways to compensate for what has been taken from her. She has found ways to appreciate herself again.

"Thank you, TyLee."

"I'm glad that you're okay." TyLee smiles.

Azula nods, "I am too."

And she means it. Despite it all, she is thankful to have made it.


End file.
